The Pariah
by Syphira
Summary: He wasn't Arthur Kirkland, but sometimes, he wished he was. 2P!England; K for.. possible triggers and themes and bah. They're just memories, basically. Originally posted on Tumblr.


**The Pariah**

**Series – **Axis Powers: Hetalia

**Pairing – **England / 2P!England (?; I guess?)

**Rating – **K~T (Mentioning of Murder; Blood.. Though, not extremely graphic.)

**Summary – **There's more to it than meets the eye.

Based off of uhoh-beek's previously amazing angsty ask answers. ;w;

Originally posted on Tumblr by me ;u;.

**"Dear Agony" by Breaking Benjamin + "100 Suns" by 30 Seconds to Mars**

* * *

Here lied Arthur Kirkland – no.

That's wrong.

Wait, no.

No, no, no, it's **right** _and _it's wrong at the same time; Many people who know the Personification and the others that have began to make themselves at home without permission are _well _aware of what others meant when they said Arthur was here, and Arthur _wasn't _here.

It just took some logical thinking before anyone could actually realize what another meant by that comment.

Arthur Kirkland – the _other _Arthur Kirkland – was sitting in England's abode, gripping onto a loveseat he had made himself comfortable in, but without the same crooked smile he always carried with him everywhere he went. Actually, there wasn't a _single _expression being shown from anything: Not his eyes, not his sudden silence, but more importantly, not on his _mouth_. His fingers were drumming against the handle that propped it up, but at the same time his body was shaking. The colored orbs that would constantly ensue fear in another's own were not shown; They were covered by his eyelids, and all he could do was simply sigh and keep to himself in this old and desolate mansion the Brit had kept for quite some time now.

It wasn't normal for him to feel this way, oh no. Whenever he felt this way, there must have been something that triggered it beforehand. Somethingdire. Catastrophic. When Arthur considered something "catastrophic," it could be considered such a tiny conflict that was often solved by the commonwealth. The norm. The norm would always wonder why he would make such a big deal out of something.. _human_, but act as if killing were such a normal hobby that he would do because he didn't have a heart.

Because he was a _cold-hearted man _who did not have a _purpose _in this world.

But that was just it. That was what made him tick – what caused him to become so spiteful and depressed. Arthur Kirkland _**loathed **_the world he would often visit and destroy in because of what others would _say _about him. He hated how other human beings (and sometimes, other personifications) would act the way they do. He would inquire reasons behind their actions and words – often coming to a stalemate with inconclusive ideas. His frustration would turn into bloodlust, and his antics that played with the deceased would be nothing more than a simple hobby after awhile. That was all; Nothing more, nothing less.

The psychotic Brit opened his eyes – cerulean irises looking down at the palm that he would never pay attention to when blood crossed paths with it. He stood up from his seating – walking towards the nearest window while he looked at his hand, the lids lowering to the half mark while his other hand placed itself on the chilled window. He let the other hand drop – a "plop" being heard as it smacked against his pants; Noticing sudden drops of rain start to patter against the glass, Arthur let out a small sigh and allowed his other palm to land at his side as well.

He wasn't crazy, no.. He couldn't be crazy. He wasn't insane. He was.. he was _him_! He killed because he thought it was interesting; He scared people because he thought it was _fun_! He teased his normal brown-haired counterpart because he found it _extremely _**entertaining**! Was it _that wrong _for him to act like a child that doesn't have a **clue **of how the world works due to the fact that he was never _taught_? Was he considered a **reject **to this new society he had woken up in one day _just _because he killed people he thought had none of the future propositions on Earth many were expected to have? Those types of thoughts ran through the broken mentality of his the second he got home from another long day of adventuring throughout the country.

And he wanted it to _stop_.

Subconsciously had he placed his hands over his ears, eyes squinting and forming tears he would have never thought would come out again after he had stopped them the first time. He chewed on his lip, hearing the negativity echo throughout the vicinity even though there was nothing to be heard. The water that leaked out smudged the cosmetics that hid the blemishes everyone laughed at whenever they were seen without his awareness. Teeth were grit; He wanted to scream. He desperately had the sudden _need _to scream and let out all the frustration that was slowly eating away at all sense of emotion that he had left.

Muttering words to nothing in particular, he suddenly heard himself start screaming at the top of his lungs – the water spilling all over his dainty bow tie and shirt. He didn't want this – he didn't _need _this type of treatment thrown at him. Oh, how the young man _wished _he could end the entire world by his own hands right now – be it through nukes, fire, or natural disasters that were controlled by his own hands.

But he couldn't. And he had to deal with the fact that he was unable to.

But the pink-haired Brit wasn't aware who was hearing the sudden cries and pleas to cease the torture. He never turned around or detected any nearby footsteps that happened to cross his path because of the amount of emotion that had suddenly burst – like a balloon once there was an excess of helium added into the rubber container. Arthur never turned around to see who was behind him – spectating his wailing and wiping of the eyes – until he felt someone grab ahold of his wrist, the sudden touch of another making his head whip around and his eyes dilate in their size in both shock and curiosity.

Being pulled into an embrace caused his body to shudder from the sudden close contact. His other counterpart, the one who he had constantly messed with, threatened, kicked around, and basically made the life of his a living _**hellhole**_ was now comforting him by muttering words of encouragement that would maybe, just _maybe _stop his crying.

"It's. . It's all over now, Chap. It's all over." said England, rubbing a small circle into his secondary persona's back, "You're you, and while.. it's a bit distressing, you should be able to accept the fact that you do not have to change for someone else."

And Arthur just froze in his position, weary sobs choked back while his breath hitched from the sudden words. The tears had only begun to dry up, but even then, Arthur responded to the warmth that surrounded him by simply hugging the other back – a smile forming on his face that wasn't malicious, but what seemed to be both friendly and welcoming to anyone that were to meet him. He stayed there –never releasing his hold against the other.

"Right.. Right. . ~" He spoke out weakly, trying to laugh but the noise never coming out. "You're absolutely right, love.. I don't have to..."

"_**Thank you.**_"


End file.
